


Rebel's Cause

by electricghoti



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Cake, Gen, Humor, Short One Shot, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricghoti/pseuds/electricghoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A non-serious look at the long-lost reason for Solas/Fen'Harel starting the rebellion against the elven gods which eventually led to their entrapment. Spoiler: Solas really likes frilly cakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebel's Cause

“I'm sorry, Dread Wolf, but it seems you are not as clever as you thought after all. Your ownership of the bakers and cakes...seems to be a lie.”

He earned a snarl for the barb, the other's face scrunched in fury, even as he leaned heavily against his staff. The Wolf, for all his cleverness, had lost that which he most desired and it has cost him in blood. 

He wiped his thumb against his cheek, pulling his hand back after to idly stare at the blood smeared there. The tingle of magic brushed against his skin in a familiar spiraling wave. The mirror representing the doorway to this hall flared into shimmery life.

The Prince descended to his throne even as he heard the scrape and shuffle of a staff against the floor. His princely posture, proper and straight, in stark contrast to the limping Wolf with his tail between his legs. 

A delicate hand reached to the side of the throne, an artist's slender fingers briefly hovering over a table placed easily in arm's reach. An ornate silver platter with a small part of his prize lay atop it. 

“Wolf,” He stated simply, coldly, flicking his eyes to the bloodied elf who had just been about to step into the mirror. The sunlit gold of his eyes held no warmth as Pride's shoulders immediately tensed in response.  
“Death.” The response was terse, forced into distance.

“If I gave you a choice,” he started, plucking a small cake of rich red and soft white icing from the tray to his side. “would you prefer cake...or death?” Deliberately and with some malicious glee, he placed the velvet confection in his mouth as Fen'Harel turned his head sharply, as if to give a bitter retort.  
\----

The words seemed to wither on his tongue. He turned back to the mirror, not quite masking the pained expression fast enough to deny the defiler the reaction he desired. His hands tightened their grip on his staff, his shoulders squaring in determination. The Friend of the Dead was silent, awaiting a response.

“I choose death.”  
\----

The pulsing blue of the mirror warped briefly, then fell silent.  
Golden eyes hid behind smoky painted lids.  
The Prince settled back into his throne and reached for another prize.


End file.
